The next Halloween
by LadyShinigami12
Summary: England has the perfect plan to scare America this Halloween. Nothing can possibly go wrong. Right?


**Takes place after the Halloween Episode of Beautiful World  
**

_Stupid America_ England thought, _Using Russia is cheating! This is between us, not anyone else!_

He had to think of something better. Something so scary, America would wet his pants and be shaking for days, not to mention jump at the slightest bit of movement! Oh, the plans he made.

It shouldn't be too difficult, America scared easy. The trouble would be making it original. After all, he had succeeded 87 times in a row already. This next one had to top all of those.

His best choice was, of course, magic. Maybe one of his magical creatures could help. But which one? America couldn't see most of them, so it wouldn't matter if they looked scary, but it could be funny if, say, he convinced Flying mint bunny to carry objects around to convince America they were ghosts. But, he had done that already.

What did America fear more than ghosts? That slender fellow might do the trick, but England didn't want to mess with him. Again. Still gave him shudders. Maybe he could call on Japan to help him out…..but no, he didn't want to win by pulling the same trick America had. What did he fear?

And then the idea hit him so hard, he wondered how could he possibly never have thought of it before. He didn't have to think of what America feared most, because there was one creature who could do that for him.

Boggarts.

England waited downstairs. He could hear America walk in the front door. He was heading towards the room, heading straight into the trap like a mouse runs to cheese. England had to stifle giggles from his excitement. Any second now, America would scream, running out the door. And then it'd be 88 to 1! Oh, it was so perfect.

It was taking America a long time to scream. Had the boggart run back to it's dark enclosed space? America HAD gone into the correct room, right? Of course he had, England planned it all out perfectly.

Slightly frowning, England made his way up the stairs. The rooms door was unlocked, and there was definitely someone in there. In fact, was that America lying down in the doorway? England made his way over to him, the closer he got, the faster he went.

America lay halfway out the doorway, stone cold dead. This was impossible! The Boggart shouldn't have been able to kill him, he made magical precautions against that!

England felt like a hole had blown open in the pit of his stomach. He fell to his knees next to the corpse, God, his face was so pale against the blood that had spurted from his chest all over the wooden floor.

England held out a shaky hand to push the man's curl out of his face. He seemed smaller in death. He was just about to close those empty violet eyes when he realized…

Violet eyes?

Small?

Curl?

This wasn't America at all, this was Canada! But, that made even less sense. What was Canada doing here? He refused to participate in these games 85 years ago. And how did he end up-dead?

England looked into the room. The first thing he noticed was another corpse, this one wearing a blue tunic and bright red pants. "France…" he whispered to himself, stepping inside the room to see.

If the sight before made England sick, this next sight made him wretch and be thankful he had skipped scones this morning.

Not only did France and Canada's corpses lay on the ground, but Japans, China, Russia, Germany and Italy. Each of them sported bloody wounds that was splashed over the floorboards. And there, in the corner of the room lay his own dead body, face down and head to the side, a slow drip of blood seeping out of his mouth.

It was a rather a surreal experience to see oneself dead. But now that he was fairly sure that he, and therefore no one else in the room, was actually dead, he was far more concerned with the overlarge man trying to hide in the corner, clutching his legs as close to himself as he could, and sobbing rather loudly.

"America," England reached out his hand to touch his knee. America was so surprised at the sudden contact, his head jerked up and threw out his arm, just missing punching the end of England's nose. England flinched back just in time, but he was more surprised when America, immediately after seeing the live England, clamped his tearstained eyes shut once again and began muttering so soft England could barely hear.

"No, no, I c-c-can't look. If-if-if I look, another—" He was cut off, and England turned around to see Romano's dead body hit the floor, right next to his brother's.

Biting his lip, England took out his wand and waved at the room, "Ridikulous" and the bodies turned into sparkling dust, before vanishing completely.

He turned back to America. Laying a hand on his arm this time, he was surprised as this time, America grabbed him around the middle, burying his head in the elder nation's chest. "I—I couldn't save them," he sniffled into his sweater, "I couldn't save anyone."

Slightly awkwardly, England lightly stroked the top of the large man's head. "It's alright, America. None of it was real. I—I'm sorry, America, I had no idea that would happen. It was just supposed to be a minor fright. I'm so, so sorry."

America stayed silent except for his sobbing, which frightened England a great deal more. America was never silent. "America…" He whispered, "America, look at me." Slowly and hesitantly, England pushed America away from him so he could look him in the face. America's eyes were bright red, his cheeks completely wet, and his glasses falling off his nose. England tried his best to smile, "I'm still alive. I'm a nation, I'm not going to die. Neither is your brother or any of your friends. And even if we were slightly at risk of dying, not everything would depend on you. We'd all work together, and we'd all pull through. Got it?"

Normally, America would argue that he could defend them all, because he was the hero. But for now he just nodded. England smirked again. "C'mon, then, lets get some candy. You still go trick or treating, don't you?" America nodded again, and England stood up, pulling America with him.

America wiped his eyes, trying to pull himself together. "So," he said, his voice still shaking, "88-1. Don't worry, I'll get you next year."

England shook his head. "No. This year, we're calling it a tie."

"Hmm?"

England smiled up at him, "You scared me way more than Russia did last year."

America stared down at him, his eyes still glistening with tears. England patted his arm and pulled him forward. "Come on, then, I'll make you a cuppa to cheer you up."

"I'd rather just have chocolate."

"Bollocks! Chocolate will just make you hyper."

"I'm fine with that."

"Yes, but I'd rather not have to pay the bill when you start sporadically jumping off the furniture and land halfway through a wall."

America snorted, and they made their way upstairs to the kitchen.


End file.
